Mendacious Bitches

Och, the name can apply to many these days but I am currently speaking of one very specific individual who has made my days hell. How in the hell does a supposed professional have a guy going to one of the largest geek-fests in the world and not get him a hotel booked in time?

You really think he’s going to just waltz right in a few weeks prior and get his usual premier lovin’? I have spent nearly a week getting the details from this utterly useless fool, and being given the run around by the guy about his registration. I finally just threw my hands in the air and logged in as him – yes, I’ll be there to host my little speech. No, I haven’t a clue if we are “global partners” of your database hegemony. Click this, that, update bio, blah blah. Done. I don’t want to hear a damned complaint when his inbox starts filling up with spam he doesn’t need.

Add to this someone who operates from PAPER. PAPER! We have the technology…we can build it…it’s called an Outlook Contact. For the love of hamsters and jam, people! She was scratching out old codes and handwriting new ones down in her little binder. Her binder…

Okay, okay – so, there’s been that. But the other lying whore is the vet who never even intimated that the worming agent would turn my dog’s ass into a damned shit fountain with randomly timed shows. WTF?! How is that stuff even legal?! Trooper joked that we could use her as a weapon, pointing her ass to the front and squeezing her belly. Oh, I can’t tell you how FOUL it has been. I now know why people with new babies sometimes just go sit in the car, alone. Every hour, all night long I rose to let her out to relieve her poor soul. After the 3a trip I decided Fuck It and let her stay out of her kennel. Really bad idea come about 4a.

There is a last one – though this bitch is the male variety…a good man passed away the other day…his power out, he thought to take a nap in his car – his giant slurpee at hand. He didn’t think, I guess, to open the garage. Perhaps he didn’t intend to fall asleep at all but he works 14 hour days and I suppose he was just so very tired. Within 24 hours of his death his only relative came and cleaned out his house of everything – his beloved cats we are unsure of – but has yet to call the funeral home to claim the body. Trooper used to play a game with him – sneak up on the little stop and shop gas station he worked at…he’d coast in blacked out, waiting for the guy to notice. He always won, too.

So there was a kind of 21 gun salute for the man – 21 stops that night and all of them made into fun experiences. One was an attractive female pathologist – he mulled that over and they looked at each other, “Dead People” they said. Dark humor took over as he prep’d the warning, jokes to and fro and her sharp intellect keeping up with ease. Another was a car full of older women, all dressed up and full makeup – seems there was to be a meeting of the minds with other good friends in town. But there was one lone 15 year old boy stuck in the back with the matrons. “How did you get stuck with all these women?” The boy smiled and shrugged. “You want to come with me for the night?” He declined the offer. “All right, then. You know your numbers, right? Well, I am putting YOU in charge of these women tonight. You keep them at the speed limit – 65. Not 65 in a 55.” By this time the womenfolk were all laughing hysterically, makeup ruined. The young man was grinning and as he left them with their warning, they were still parked there cackling and crying.

We’ll do what we can to get the man a decent funeral this weekend if his brother does nothing. The local banks can usually be relied upon to donate to good causes and we can cremate him if nothing else. I told Trooper that his ashes should be scattered as he drives down that highway that he watched every day. A kind of Trooper For A Day…

So it’s been a pretty shitty weekend all around and a crappy day thus far. About the only cure I have is some hard cider and a hard shower. It’s a crazy fucked up life in these parts, sometimes. There’s nothing for it but to find what joy you can, brief as it might be.

What the hell else can you do?

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